


Niall Was The First Surprise

by akikotree



Series: San Francisco Dance AU [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Modern AU, OT5 Friendship, RPF, San Francisco Bay Area, dance, real person fic, san francisco dance au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akikotree/pseuds/akikotree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A happy sight broke through Liam's thoughts. There was Niall, standing right on the edge of the curb, his eyes roaming over the sea of cranky Bay Area drivers. "Niall!" he shouted, though there was no way Niall could possibly hear. Liam turned on his blinker and carefully navigated to the loading lane, nearly getting rear-ended by a Prius for his trouble.</p><p>An AU in which Directions is a modern ballet dance school in San Francisco. Liam and Niall are on their way to see Harry and Zayn perform in the end of year show. Harry and Louis have a past, Liam and Zayn might have a future, and everyone has secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Niall Was The First Surprise

“Take ex-it I-380 to-wards US 101, San Fran-cis-co Inter-na-tion-al Air-port, and merge on-to I-380 East,” Liam's phone commanded in its tinny electronic voice. 

“Yeah, yeah, _thank you,”_ muttered Liam, craning a look over his shoulder and flicking on his blinker before merging. He actually knew his way to this airport fairly well, having driven almost all of his friends here at the end of the fall semester, and picked two of them up again in January. Being pressed into taxi service was a direct side effect of being the only one with access to a car. Liam successfully kept right at the fork and did NOT take the exit to San Jose, as he had on that memorable occasion with Zayn last December. Zayn had nearly had a panic attack over missing his expensive flight home. (“How could you have missed that exit? If I don't make my flight _I swear to god_ you are buying me another ticket!” “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I got distracted!” “What do you mean, _distracted_ \- the only thing going on was _me telling you to take that exit!”_ ) Liam had, eventually, got them turned around and Zayn had not, thankfully, missed his flight. Their hurried goodbyes had been less cordial than they might otherwise have been, though. Liam had had something to say, but Zayn had not been in the right state to hear it, so he had kept quiet. 

In another minute Liam was driving under the blue and white airport direction signs, pointing off towards Domestic and International. Liam headed right, under International, and then swung into the lane for Arrivals. His phone buzzed in the cup holder. Niall's number was flashing on the screen.

“Hold on one fucking minute,” said Liam but a huge grin was spreading across his face. Just the thought of seeing Niall again was enough to fill him up with silly giddy energy. Had it really been almost six months since he'd last seen Niall? It didn't seem possible; but it had been a very busy semester. For the first time ever Liam had taken a full load of fifteen academic units and the amount of homework had been unbelievable. 

Liam pulled into the Arrivals roundabout, keeping an eye on the taxi cabs and commuter cars all trying to pull into different lanes and slide into non-existent parking spots. Periodically someone would throw on their flashers in the middle of the road as various friends and relatives were spotted. Niall had patriotically flown with Aer Lingus, so Liam kept his eyes peeled for a green sign and a blond head. Niall claimed he always chose Aer Lingus because they had the cheapest tickets from Dublin to SFO. Liam was pretty sure he chose it because the flight attendants gave him extra snacks when he turned up his accent. 

Liam was ridiculously excited to see him again. He and Niall had been planning this trip for weeks, but Niall was shit at making travel decisions, so it has mostly been Liam orchestrating the whole thing. Keeping it a secret from Harry and Zayn had been extremely difficult. If Liam had still been in class with them everyday like last semester it would have been impossible. But since all of Liam's classes were at Benedictine University this term he hadn't been in the city nearly as much. Liam hadn't expected to enjoy his enforced semester of G.E.s and humanities but he had. That very enjoyment was the source of his one worry about this trip: at some point Liam was going to have to tell Niall his plans for next fall. Specifically, Liam was going to have to admit that he was dropping out of Alonsa Queen's Directions Dance program altogether to work on getting an undergrad degree at Benedictine (Directions' academic partner school) instead. Liam was pretty sure Niall would understand once he explained his decision. But he worried that Niall would feel abandoned. Harry and Zayn had gotten a semester ahead of him at Directions since his injury. Now Liam planned to leave the program. And Louis- who the fuck knew where he was. 

A happy sight broke through Liam's thoughts. There was Niall, standing right on the edge of the curb, his eyes roaming over the sea of cranky Bay Area drivers. 

“Niall!” he shouted, though there was no way Niall could possibly hear. Liam turned on his blinker and carefully navigated to the loading lane, nearly getting rear-ended by a Prius for his trouble. The other car screeched its horn rudely and Niall's eyes turned in his direction- they lit up at once when they caught on his dirty dark green Honda. There it was, that smile as bright as the sun; just like Liam remembered. Liam was out of the car and hugging him before he had time to think. 

“Liammmm,” hummed Niall, squeezing him just as tight in return. “I can't believe I'm back...” He stepped away, holding Liam at arms length like a proud parent. He gaze lingered for a moment on the cast on Liam's left arm and then he looked around. “It's weird that everyone isn't here to get me.”

“This is a surprise visit, you idiot,” Liam laughed. All around them people were getting into and out of cars; breaks screeched over the whistles of the crossing guards. “Did you forget already? Please tell me you didn't text Harry or Zayn from the airport and ruin it.” 

“I didn't,” said Niall. “The look on their faces is going to be priceless. Let's go!” 

“Need help with your stuff?” asked Liam, looking to where Niall had dumped his backpack and duffel on the pavement.

“Dude, you have a broken arm, I'm not letting you carry my bags!” 

“You have a fucked-up knee, you probably shouldn't be carrying them either,” Liam pointed out but he walked around to the driver side leaving Niall to get his stuff. Immediately three cars queued up behind Liam to take his spot. Someone in the farthest one shouted. 

“It's fine, whatever,” Niall rolled his eyes as he shoved his things into the trunk. Liam had already noticed he was still wearing a brace on it though- Niall's chosen airport attire consisted of a Derby County Rams hoodie, sneakers and green basketball shorts under which the flexible black knee brace was clearly visible. The fact that he was still wearing it even now was not a good sign. 

“Did you get me In-N-Out?” Niall yelped, spotting the paper bag on the passenger seat. 

“Yup,” said Liam, snagging his seat belt awkwardly on his cast. 

_Car full of gimps at the moment,_ thought Liam. It was these injuries that had kept both Niall and Liam out of dance classes this semester. If not for his arm and Niall's knee they wouldn't just be on the way to see the end of spring semester Directions performance; they'd be in it themselves. But if he'd been taking half of his units at Directions and only half at Benedictine, thought, Liam, he might never have realized how much he liked the academic classes when he wasn't stressed out and exhausted all the time. 

“Ah, Liam, I love you,” said Niall happily. He had unwrapped the two burgers (double cheese, special sauce) plus fries and a lemonade. “This is all for me, right?” 

“I have met you,” said Liam, pulling back out into the traffic. 

“Where we 'eaded first?” Niall asked, around his first enormous mouthful. 

“ODC,” said Liam, concentrating on getting out of the airport mess as quickly as possible. 

“We're going straight to the theater?” Niall swallowed, looking distressed. “What about dinner? It's a two hour show, isn't it?” 

Liam looked pointedly at the mess of In-N-Out paper and fries in Niall's lap. 

“This isn't dinner, this is like, a snack!” 

Liam laughed. “I'm sure we'll go out for Chinese with Harry and Zayn after, they'll probably be starving.” 

“Lucky Cat!” said Niall. “Like old times?” 

“Probably,” agreed Liam. 

“So how're all your classes going?” Niall asked. 

“Good,” said Liam. He took a deep breath. “Really really good. I'm done with most of my finals; just a take home exam and one last paper to write.” 

“Keep right to-wards US 101 No-rth, San Fran-cis-co,” said Liam's phone from the cup holder. “Merge on-to US 101 No-rth.” They slide over the hill away from Burlingame and the airport sprawl, the water of the San Francisco bay visible on their right. Niall's flight had got in at 7pm which left them a comfortable hour, plenty of time even with traffic, to get to the theater and parked before the show started at 8. 

“R'mind me what'yer taking,” said Niall, with his mouth full. 

“I took college algebra, world history and second year English, which were just G.E.s that all the academic dance students have to do- Elias and Jen and everyone was in them as well,” said Liam. “But when I broke my arm and decided not to take any dance, I added Intro to Psych and a class on natural disasters, which were pretty much the best classes I've ever had.” He swallowed, wondering if the moment of truth had come so quickly. 

“Actually,” said Liam. He glanced over at Niall. “I'm thinking about continuing with Psychology next semester. The teacher I have now- Robertson- does Abnormal Psych as well. He's already recommended it to me.” 

“So no dance, no conditioning, no choreography,” Niall sounded a bit incredulous. “Have you been staying in shape _at all?_ ” 

“I've been jogging some,” said Liam, which was not technically a lie- he did in fact jog to class when he got a late start in the mornings. 

“More than I've done,” said Niall, a bit morosely. He waded up all the fast food wrappers and tossed them into the foot well. “I was basically sitting on my arse for two months. They didn't want my ACL to like, rip off or whatever.” His words were causal but there was frustration audible beneath them. 

“That really sucks,” said Liam, grimacing in sympathy. “Does it still hurt?” 

“Yes,” Niall said shortly. He taped his figures for a moment on the knee brace, looking down. Inevitably, that first trip with Niall to the emergency room swam up in Liam's mind; he wondered if Niall was remembering it as well- or other trips, other doctors. Just as Liam was wondering if he should say something- _What have they told you, will it be better soon-_ Niall shook his head and brightened. 

“I've been playing my guitar a lot,” Niall said. “I picked it up again over winter break because I was just bored out of my mind stuck on those crutches. I forgot how much I enjoyed it. I've gotten way better, been practicing pretty much everyday for months. I almost wanted to bring it with me but-” he laughed. “Too cheap to pay for an extra carry on.” 

“That's right, you mentioned that,” said Liam. The sun was setting now as they headed onto the Bayshore freeway. It was a weird little stretch of causeway with water on both sides. Now, with the slanting rays of the sun just disappearing over the San Francisco hills, the water to both right and left looked gilded. The inevitable fog had yet to come in. “Didn't you say you had found someone to play with, some English guy who was sleeping on your friend's couch? That guy you thought might be sort of homeless?” 

“Yeah, Ed!” Niall exclaimed. “He totally just ran away from home. He's cool though, we've been hanging out a lot since March. We've been writing songs together. He writes these lyrics, man... they're really good. They make me sort of embarrassed to show him mine, but he's cool about it.” 

“Are you two like- in a band together?” Liam asked, somewhat hesitantly. He had learned early on in their friendship that Niall loved music and would pretty much burst into song at any opportunity. Liam was not aware, however, if Niall was actually any good- objectively speaking. 

“Sort of. We've played a few gigs- just at pubs,” Niall admitted, almost sheepishly. “But everywhere we've played has said we should come back, so we must sound at least okay!” 

“To drunk people, you mean?” Liam laughed. 

“Fuck you,” said Niall amiably. Then, with a faint air of changing the subject, he asked, “But yeah- how are Harry and Zayn, what have they been up to?” 

Harry was easier to talk about, so Liam started with him. “Did Harry tell you about that audition he did over spring break, for the LA summer ballet intensive?” 

“Yeah!”

“He got in,” said Liam. “He just heard. He's going down to LA a couple weeks after the semester ends. He's not going home all summer.” 

“Shit,” said Niall. “That's...” He and Liam traded a look, sort of rueful and happy and a bit awed. That was not an uncommon attitude among Harry's friends. He was so goddamned talented they might have wanted to hate him for it, except for the fact that they loved him instead. The jealous type might say he was just lucky, but the two of them knew how hard Harry had worked for all of his successes. 

“That's pretty incredible. It's like, he's made it. He's in.” Niall shook his head. 

“If they offer him a contract afterward,” said Liam. 

“Ah, I bet they do,” said Niall. 

“He's been growing out his hair, I think he wants it to be long enough to make a proper bun by the time he gets down there.” 

Niall laughed out loud. “So he'll look like a real ballerina, you mean?” 

“I guess,” laughed Liam. 

“Is there a single person in the whole world more ridiculous about their hair than Harry?” Niall wondered aloud. “Except for Louis, I mean.” 

Liam's amusement evaporated immediately, and he did not respond. Their exit was coming up soon; though he kept his eyes firmly on the road, he could feel Niall looking over at him. He knew it was inevitable that Niall would ask. After a moment, he did. 

“Have you heard _anything_ from him? From Louis?” The concern was audible in Niall's voice. 

“No,” said Liam curtly. Liam wasn't angry with Niall for asking (it was only natural that he would ask) but it was weird even hearing Louis's name spoken aloud. But Niall couldn't know that, he'd been in Ireland during the fallout of Louis's disappearance. He hadn't been there during the panic, the freakouts, and the endless hours of useless speculation of those first few weeks. Circular conversations that went nowhere, feverish at first, but slowly growing abbreviated and bitter. Around spring break they had died out altogether and an unspoken rule had formed between Liam, Harry and Zayn- Don't Mention Louis Unless Strictly Necessary. But Niall didn't know that. 

“He just completely fucking vanished,” said Liam. “He _literally_ disappeared in the middle of the night, the day before Harry's flight home. His stuff was gone from the apartment when we got back from winter break. Doesn't answer texts, or emails, or calls. We think he changed his number.” The broken window that Harry had discovered at the back of the apartment, the one over the laundry room door, had added yet another level of paranoia and fear to their worrying. But Harry and Zayn's landlord had been in to fix it before the end of January, and Liam didn't want to bring it up now. 

“It's so bizarre,” whispered Niall. 

“The only reason we know he's not _dead_ is the finance office told us he's making monthly tuition payments,” said Liam. “Hasn't missed one yet.” 

“Tuition payments?” Niall frowned. 

“He'll have lost his scholarship when he dropped out,” said Liam, a bit viciously. “Has to pay off last semester.” 

“Ah.” 

They lapsed into silence. There was really nothing else to say on that subject. Liam was glad of the interruption when his phone directed them to take the Vermont Street exit and then the first left onto 17th Street. He had his lights on now, though there was still a haze of sunset in the sky. Turning onto 17th the noise of the Mission rose around them- talk and laughter from dozens of cheap restaurants, yells of people on the street, cars moving jerkily from one stoplight to the next, pigeons, seagulls. They parked in the lot between Shotwell and Folsom, paying $15 for five hours (practically free for San Francisco) and headed across the street to the ODC theater. The attached cafe on the corner was dark but the foyer itself was flooded with light. 

“Hang back a minute,” said Liam as they neared the doors. He didn't want Harry or Zayn to see Niall until after the show. Liam peered through the glass, but the only people in the lobby looked like someone's parents arrived extremely early. Liam pushed open the door and Niall followed him in. The ODC theater lobby was quite small. There were two couches pushed against the wall by the door, a petite ticket desk to the left next to the entrance to the closed cafe, the entrance to the seating and stage directly ahead, a small table for fliers and business cards, and the hall to the greenrooms and restrooms on the right. It was all familiar to Liam and Niall from the fall semester show. 

Suddenly the door from the stage area was pushed open and Niall actually crouched down for a second as if he might possibly be able to hide behind Liam; but it was only Hannah, the volunteer and events coordinator. She was dressed up for opening night in slacks and a nice blouse but she looked harassed; her arms were full of a huge stack of paper and she was talking very loudly into her cell phone. Liam waved as Hannah spotted him. 

“Liam!” Her face brightened. “And Niall, what a lovely surprise!” She dropped the ream of paper onto the small table with a thump. She reached out to hug Niall with one arm, still talking into her phone. “Yes I _know,_ I've just got back from the office. I have no idea where she is but when I got there they hadn't even been printed yet!” She gave Liam a distracted half hug as well. 

“I'm for the loo,” said Niall, and he headed off down the hall. 

“Tell Andrew to worry about the summer session after this week from hell is over!” said Hannah grumpily. “We'll figure out R.A.s for the high schoolers later! I have to go, the show starts in 20 minutes.” Hannah ended the call and turned her attention back to Liam. 

“Liam, love, I know you're here as a member of the audience but could you please fold at least fifty of these programs? My intern was supposed to do it but I have no idea where she is. These sheets are the covers, and these are the insides, got it? Wait- can you fold with your arm...?” 

“I can fold paper, Hannah,” Liam said. “Go sort out the seats. I'll get Niall to help me when he comes back.” 

“You are a _life saver,”_ she said breathlessly and ran off. 

A few more parents and friends, mostly of the second years, trickled into the lobby starting up a mumble of low conversation. Liam had folded approximately three and a half pamphlets when the door to the theater hall burst open. Several people in the lobby turned to look. Liam had a one second glimpse of Harry- barefoot, wearing a grungy white shirt and slouchy black yoga pants with his hair pulled up into that silly little bun- before he was attacked by a crushing hug. 

“Liam, Liam, you came!” Harry was very warm and already slightly damp with sweat. He nuzzled his face into Liam's neck because he knew Liam hated it. 

“Hey, get off!” Liam yelped, trying to push him away. Hannah must have mentioned Liam was out here- Liam hoped to god she hadn't mentioned Niall as well. 

“I _miss_ you, Liam, I never see you anymore,” Harry said mournfully, his arms still wound around Liam's shoulders. His pre-show ridiculousness was in full effect tonight. Liam had, in fact, last seem him two days ago. 

“Are you supposed to be out here?” Liam asked, knowing that he wasn't. He hoped Niall took his time in the restroom, or their surprise was going to come out early. 

Harry pouted dramatically. “Aren't you glad to see me?” 

“I am, but look, I have all these programs to fold!” Liam gestured to the pile. 

Harry spared them not a glance. “Liam,” he said, his eyes suddenly shining. He shook Liam's shoulders a little for emphasis. “Liam, you are going to DIE when you see Zayn in Damien's piece,” he was smirking wickedly. “I think Damien choreographed the whole thing as an ode to Zayn's hips...” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Liam, flushing slightly. Harry leaned over so he could hiss directly into Liam's ear. 

“He looks like _sex on a plate!”_

Liam had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, so it was probably for the best that the theater door was pushed open a third time and a stern voice called out “Harry Styles, get back in here, no one is supposed to see your stage make-up!” It was Taylor. She threw one golden smile at Liam before frowning again at Harry. “It's fifteen minutes to the start of the show!” 

“Spoilers, Li, everyone's wearing yellow eyeshadow in the first piece,” said Harry, widening his eyes. Liam had already noticed the garish red eyeliner and stage-exaggerated yellow eyeshadow- it looked Halloweeny and strange. 

“You aren't even in costume yet!” said Taylor, exasperated. She herself was still in sweatpants, so Liam assumed she must not be dancing until late in the show. 

“Liam needs help with these programs,” said Harry, seizing up a handful of cover sheets. He folded three in half carelessly, spoiling them. 

“ _Harry,_ ” said Taylor. She snagged his arm and tried to drag him back towards the hall and the stage. There were giggles from the growing crowd of audience members. 

“Just go!” Liam shoved Harry towards the door. Niall was going come back down the hall any second, and then Harry would really cause a scene. There was a reason Liam wanted to surprise him and Zayn _after_ the show- he knew, firsthand, how keyed up Harry got even under normal circumstances before a performance. For some reason Harry dealt with his nerves by being silly, childish, and frankly kind of a pain. He didn't need anything _more_ to distract him. 

Harry gave Liam the saddest of puppy dog eyes as he tossed the ruined programs into the air and let himself be towed into the theater. Less than half a second later Niall emerged from the bathroom. Liam let out a long breath. 

“That was close.” 

“What?” said Niall, wiping his hands on the back of his shirt.

“Harry was just out here one second ago,” said Liam, bending to pick up the pages off the floor. Cleaning up after Harry, as usual. 

“Oh shit!” said Niall, looking around and ducking a bit. “Should I like, hide in the ladies room until the show starts?” 

“Nah, I think it's safe. Help me fold these, will you?” 

“Is that Harry on the cover of the program?” Niall asked, picking up one of the finished ones to examine. It was indeed Harry on the cover, looking far more elegant and poised than he had in person a moment before. He was wearing black calf length leggings and a tight black shirt with three-quarter length sleeves- nothing fancy, might have been a lighting test on the stage. The photographer (likely Hannah's intern) had caught him in a high Arabesque, both of his arms outstretched in a gesture both impulsive and precise. The bun was in full evidence, but it was for his smile that his particular photo had probably been chosen. 

At ten minutes to show time people began filing into the theater to chose their seats. Liam and Niall picked a spot on the left side about three rows back. It was a small theater about three quarters full with their current audience of a hundred and twenty or so people. The stage had a repurposed-industrial feel. The unraised floor was light modern wood, but the walls showed bare brick criss-crossed with exposed steel beams. Five lighting tracks above and three on each wall took the place of any curtains or backdrop. Liam had found it both intimate and intimidating when he had danced on it during the fall showcase. If you made a mistake, it was completely obvious- he had often been dancing only fifteen feet or so away from the first row of audience members and there was nothing else for them to look at. 

Angela, one of the stage managers Liam remembered from last year, stepped up to the front of the stage. 

“Hello, and welcome to Alonsa Queen's Directions Dance spring showcase,” she said with a smile. “We're so glad you could all come this evening to support the program. There will be a 45 minute first half, a 20 minute intermission, and a 50 minute second half. I'd like to ask everyone to turn off your cellphones and cameras at this time- no photography or recordings are permitted. Please enjoy the show!” She moved off into the hallway and the house lights went down. The audience quieted, and in the near darkness Liam heard the rustle of bare feet. With light quick steps the dancers took their places. There were three long beats of silence... four... Liam's heart pounded faster with the remembered adrenalin of those endless seconds before the start of a show- five... six... 

And then the first note of the music rang out and the lights came up. Right away there was movement- two lines of nine dancers each stepping and then dipping then stepping again in opposite directions. Everyone was dressed in off-white or cream with hints of yellow and red. It took Liam only seconds to pick out Harry and Zayn in the second row. Now the lines merged and in near perfect synchrony the dancers executed a line of footwork before gathering into a group in the center and exploding out again in time to the music.

The first piece of the end of year showcase was always a display of the first year class. Most of the dance was done as a group since it was meant as a test and display of technique. Directions was a modern dance company but the foundation was ballet (or Western Classical Dance as the brochures and website always clarified). The first year for the dance-only majors, and the first two years for the academic dance majors, was really a deep foundation of the core disciplines of ballet. Baring injuries, Niall would have been in this piece as well. From his place in the audience Liam noticed the improvement of his former classmates- leaps that were stronger and higher than they had been last fall, increased speed, deeper plié, every movement with better lines, more athleticism. They had passed him up, Liam realized with a wash of regret. And yet, it also brought him some relief; he had made his choice when he failed to sign up for single dance class during registration. Seeing their progress and knowing his lack of it made it feel like there was no going back. Only- when was he going to tell Niall? And after that- _god-_ he would have to tell Zayn and Harry as well. Liam hadn't even started worrying about that yet. One hurdle at a time.

Harry, tall as he was, was only the third tallest in the cohort; John was six feet and Elias was six foot two. The three of them formed the base when the group lifted Perrie for a moment, swirling around before setting her onto her feet as light as a feather. Seemingly effortlessly she transitioned into a series of incredibly fast chainé turns, her blond hair streaming behind. For a moment the whole group trailed behind her, as if pulled by strings- then with just a few steps they had formed back into the two lines they had started in. 

And there was Zayn, now in the center of the front line. The costume, which looked downright silly on Harry, still managed to flatter Zayn. The cream and ocher contrasted well with him under the lights and the bizarre yellow eyeshadow (seriously, what was up with that) pulled the gold out in his hazel eyes. His movements and lines were as sharp and crisp as ever- Zayn danced with an extreme awareness of every gesture. He danced for the details, as Alonsa Queen would say, not just for the steps. He was- there just wasn't another word for it- beautiful. Usually Liam didn't let himself notice this. Liam spent great swaths of time carefully _not_ noticing it. Liam hated the way people looked at Zayn, noticed his eyelashes or his check bones, and never bothered to look past the surface. It was easy to mistake Zayn's quietness for indifference, to assume that since he was pretty he must also be shallow and aloof. It didn't help that Zayn had a way of spacing out in the back of a group, or of drifting into class in the morning still half asleep, which often got him pegged as a stoner. Actually this was somewhat true, but it was more accurate to say that Zayn was an introvert and a daydreamer. For a dancer it was almost ridiculous how much he lived in his head. 

Zayn's favorite class in the fall had been Character Acting for Dance, a class designed to help them get into the role of a traditional repertoire piece. Conversely, this class had been Liam's _least_ favorite. Liam, who had never excelled at dancing as anyone other than himself, had been very surprised to hear Zayn talk about how he developed a character for every dance. Even the smallest parts gave birth to a role or an origin story. “It's my favorite part of getting on a stage,” Zayn had tried to explain. “You don't have to be yourself- you can be someone else, anyone you want.” Perhaps that was why Liam had never done well with acting. He seemed to lack the necessary imagination. 

Beside him Niall made a small impressed noise and Liam suddenly realized that he had completely zoned out the whole second half of the dance. It was well executed but honestly- not a particularly inspired piece of choreography. As Liam focused again the dancers were reforming their original lines, and the opening steps of the dance repeated in reverse as the music faded and the lights when down. 

Liam knew, from the programs he had folded, that the next three pieces had all been choreographed by graduating students. Second years in Directions, or Benedictine dance seniors, could choreograph a solo piece; they could team up with someone for a duet or pas de duex; or they could chose a few of the younger students and choreograph for a small group. On the strength of these pieces a few of them might be offered contracts with the Directions touring company. Others might go on to audition for the San Francisco Ballet, LA, New York, or somewhere abroad. Understandably, the stakes were very high and promising first years were snapped up immediately by the older students. Harry had been asked for by three older students; he would perform in one of these pieces tonight and the two tomorrow. Zayn was only in one, which would come tonight after the intermission. Liam had not been asked for by anyone, and so had not felt guilty about leaving anyone in the lurch when he dropped all his dance classes at the end of January. 

This next piece, un-originally titled “Allegro,” had been choreographed by a second year Liam only vaguely knew. Liam had always taken Rebecca for a sharp, impatient person and he was unsurprised to see that she had choreographed a sharp, impatient dance. She had picked three girls from the younger class, Jen, Andrea and Eleanor. All three of them were very good, but part way through Liam found himself wondering if Rebecca had chosen them because they were all petite brunettes and looked very similar in their blue leotards. The whole piece was a punishing exercise in level changes, the dancers constantly transitioning from standing to knees to floor to standing again, over and over, with rolls and leaps in between. It looked fantastic, but Liam knew how difficult and exhausting it could be. His breath caught in worry as Eleanor, the tallest of the girls, bobbled a knee spin into a lunge- but she caught herself and was up and out of it in time to catch up with the next beat of the music. She was fine, but it left Liam feeling uneasy for the rest of the piece. It had been a very similar move that had sent Niall to the emergency room last year in the first week of December. 

Niall's injury had not happened during a performance- it had been a simple slip in a rehearsal class. Liam remembered the loud smack and the shout when Niall's knee had cracked against the hard wood floor. He hadn't actually seen it, as he had been working with Zayn- but he had seen Niall's face, normally pink after a workout, drain to pale. He had seen the way Niall's hands clenched into fists, his eyes squinted and creased with pain. Within minutes their teacher had called an Uber cab to take him to urgent care. When she asked for someone to go with him, Harry, Zayn and Louis had pushed Liam forward- he had already become known in their group as The Responsible One. Niall had told Liam, in a voice that broke and hitched with every bump of the car, that he had always had trouble with his knees. Something about the joints made them dislocate easily. Niall had already been told that if he planned to dance seriously a knee surgery was probably in his future. Even so, he had not expected it to come before he turned twenty. Liam remembered half carrying Niall into the doctor's room; wanting to stay but being brusquely ordered back out to the lobby. He remembered sitting for what felt like hours, watching the endless traffic flow by outside the glass doors. He remembered Niall, ashen faced, limping out on crutches to collapse beside him on the white faux leather bench. And he remembered Niall weeping into his shoulder as he choked out the doctor's words; that he might never dance again. It was the one and only time Liam had ever seen Niall cry. Liam had kept an arm firmly around him until Niall had subsided into raspy calm. Then he had carried Niall, and the crutches, piggyback for two and half blocks down Lombard to Mel's Drive-In and bought him pancakes and orange juice and a cheese omelet and talked with him about trivial things until Niall was himself again. A couple of days later Niall was back on a plane to Ireland, missing the end of the semester- and the horrible disappearing act of Louis Tomlinson. 

Liam glanced over at Niall, wondering if being back in the States after five and half months away was bittersweet for him. But Niall's face was clear and unclouded, and he clapped with real enthusiasm as Rebecca's piece ended. Niall was physically incapable of brooding. It was one of Liam's favorite things about him. 

The third dance, Kasey's choreography, was Liam's favorite so far. She had put five female dancers in black short shorts, black tank tops and suit jackets, their hair in tight buns. It was one of the most creative senior pieces Liam had ever seen, and the first of the evening with the girls wearing pointe shoes. The slippery, serpentine movements made Liam think of Kyle Abraham's work while the jackets and the movie-soundtrack like music made him think of James Bond. The dance started out with two lines, three dancers in the back and two in the front. There were many turns all done in union, with one leg in an attitude to the side or to the back. There were easy lunges to right and left with arms in a loose second position. Those moves were all fairly traditional but there were fun flourishes- on one spin they all covered their eyes and after a set of footwork they straightened their jackets. 

In the second half it grew more experimental. The dancers drew together into a tight group in the center of the stage, all of them pulling up the lapels of their jackets to hide their faces. They slowly eased them down as if reveling a secret, and broke into a sequence that was practically hip hop. At one point the fifth dancer simply stepped to the side as if observing while the other four linked up in pairs. Sarah and Suyin, the shorter in each set, each made a small leap letting their partners catch them half over one shoulder. They hung there for a moment, limp as rag dolls, until their taller partners set them slowly back on their feet. Keeping a hold on one hand each pair executed a half spin and an exaggerated marionette-like walk. At another point the four dancers who had been in pairs froze at the corners of an imagined square while the fifth dancer, Jacqueline, performed a windmill of arm movements and some impressive sissone leaps in the center.

The last dance before the intermission was Taylor's piece. She was one of the academic dance seniors who had snagged Harry right away, within the first or second week. Liam suspected she had a bit of a crush on Harry- although to be fair it had already been pretty obvious by that point that Harry was the most naturally talented dancer among the first years. Taylor was smart; she had gotten a BFA in dance and a minor in Ethics out of her four joint years at Directions and Benedictine. She knew a good investment when she saw it. 

Taylor's choreography was an upbeat swing dance, the only piece so far set to a pop song with lyrics. She came out wearing a black dress with big white polka dots, black dance heels, white socks and red lipstick. Harry was wearing black pants and shoes and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His one splash of color was an incongruous red scarf, tied over his forehead and under his hair to keep the floppy curls out of his face. Taylor in her low heels matched Harry for height almost perfectly, and the fun they were obviously having with the dance showed through. Most of the dance was in a triple step, triple step, rock step of the East Coast swing style but Taylor had thrown some lindy hop in there as well. The skirt of her dress swirled around her knees as Harry spun her around. A second later the tails of Harry's scarf swished behind his head as _she_ twirled _him_. 

When the two of them bowed, out of breath and beaming, the audience gave them a solid round of applause and a cheer. Harry followed Taylor off stage, exiting into the wings as the house lights came up for intermission. A buzz of conversation started up in the audience- people stretched or shifted around or stood up to use the restroom. Niall and Liam stayed sitting in their seats. 

“I had no idea Harry could swing dance,” said Niall, grinning. “He's really good!” 

“He couldn't before this semester,” said Liam. “He picked it all up since January.” 

“Of course,” said Niall, rolling his eyes. “Harry Styles, mister 'I've never done this before but will still be the best in the class'.” 

“Jealous?” laughed Liam. 

“No,” said Niall simply. “I know it's just the way he is.” 

And because it was Niall, Liam believed him. He wouldn't have believed from most people; certainly not from Louis, probably not from himself. But he believed Niall. 

“Is he, like... seeing anyone? Since... Louis?” Niall asked it tentatively, as if he half thought it wasn't any of his business. Taylor's piece had so obviously been a couple's dance; Liam wondered if that was what had prompted Niall's question. 

“No...” said Liam. “I mean... I think he kind of slept with this one guy, like maybe a few times, back in February but it was... not good.” 

That was an understatement. February had been _horrible_. Harry's birthday had passed with no word; on the tenth they had all been forced to acknowledge that Louis had been gone for a solid two months; and then there had been Valentine's day... Liam wasn't sure why that one had been such a problem. Like, what had Harry been expecting- flowers? But for whatever reason it had hit him particularly hard. Liam had gotten a lot of texts from Zayn in February that started with _Liam, I need you_ but ended with _to help me deal with Harry._

“Where did he meet this guy?” Niall asked, with charming naivete. Liam gave him a look. 

“It's San Francisco,” said Liam. “It could have been anywhere. Maybe at Chameleon.”

“That place we did Halloween?” 

“Niall,” Liam sighed. “Remember how we don't talk about Halloween?” 

“But it was the most epic Halloween I've ever had!” Niall declared. “I didn't even mind all you lads wanting to go to a gay bar! It was kind of fun, even though I accidentally hit on that lesbian...” 

_“Niall,”_ said Liam, gritting his teeth. 

“Alright, alright,” said Niall. 

A woman who had been sitting farther along in their row returned, and Niall and Liam were obliged to stand up and to let her back to her seat. Around them a few people had turned their smart phones back on and were scrolling though something or other. In this city you never knew if people on their phones were inventing the next big tech industry breakthrough or playing the latest Zynga game. Or both, at the same time. Liam's thoughts had just started to stray to Zayn and Harry in the greenroom (and how they would react after the show) when Niall shifted around in his seat. He turned to face Liam squarely and Liam raised his eyebrows. Niall had a curiously serious expression on his face. 

“So, um,” said Niall. He was fidgeting a little with his hands. “There's something I've been meaning t' tell you, that I'm a bit nervous t' say.” 

“What?” Liam was completely at a loss. What would _Niall_ be nervous about?

“I'm- well, it seems like my knee is just- not going to get better.” Liam made a noise of protest, but Niall shook his head. “No, just listen. Me and m'parents talked with the doctor and it would take a crazy expensive surgery and the kind of physical therapy that only footballers can get. We just- we can't really afford it right now... and I'd'rather wait and see how much it can do on it's own, anyway.” 

Niall paused, and took a deep breath. Liam knew this was serious, as Niall's accent had gotten thicker. “So- since that's th'case- I'm not going t' be coming back here in the fall. I'm not coming back t' Directions. Please don't be mad.” He turned the full force of his big blue eyes on Liam, a tactic that tended to work on most people. 

“You're dropping out of the program? _You?_ ” Liam exclaimed. 

“It just doesn't make any sense t' stay,” said Niall hurriedly, misinterpreting the look on Liam's face. “I can't dance on it like this, I'll just make it worse. And I think,” he added more hesitantly, “I think I've found something I want to do more- more than dancing, I mean. Not more than being here, with you lot.” 

“Hah,” said Liam, a huge weigh lifting in his chest. There was sadness in it, but mostly it was relief. All the time he's spent worrying he was abandoning Niall- The house lights dimmed at that moment, causing the gamer/inventors to look up blinking from their screens. 

“Why is that funny?” demanded Niall as all the people from the foyer began to filer down the hallway and back to their seats. 

“It's not funny,” said Liam. “It's just- I wasn't planning to go back to dance next fall either and I've spent ages trying to figure out how to tell you!” 

“Are you serious?” laughed Niall, standing up again to let more people into their row. 

“Yeah,” said Liam. “I signed up for a full load of academic units instead. Mostly psychology. But what will you do instead next year- go back to school?” 

“Nah,” said Niall. “Music! Me and Ed- we want to make a record, try to get signed. Be a band for real.” 

“Good for you,” said Liam, and he meant it. He was extremely glad that Niall wasn't just dropping out with no plan. Even a ridiculous plan like making a record would be something to keep him occupied. “Tell me more about it after.” Angela was back up at the front of the stage, requesting once again that people turn off their phones. 

“Course,” said Niall. The house lights went off completely and there was a minor bit of shifting and rustling as people settled in. This time Liam did not hear the dancers moving into position right away, but instead the beginning of the music- something nervous and edgy, a kind of industrial techno beat. A few seconds after the lights when down there was a creak and a ray of light cut like a knife down the hallway on the left side of the seats. 

“Close the door,” muttered Niall, irritated. “It's bloody rude to be late.” 

“Shh,” said Liam as the door was pushed shut. He heard footsteps coming down the hall then a vague dark shape ducked as it passed the first row of seats on the left and climbed quickly up the center aisle all the way up to the back. A soft glow of lighting started, revealing a tableau of frozen figures. On the left side of the stage there were seven dancers, all wearing various shades of nude. The girls had on something like sleeveless rompers but the guys were just wearing shorts. These did not look like any costumes Liam recognized from the costume storage- or like matching store bought clothes such as Kasey had used. These looked like they'd been made to fit. They were tight. Suddenly there was a first twitch of movement on the right side of the stage, which was comparatively almost empty. But not completely empty. There was one dancer lying on his back, lit by a low spotlight from the wall. With a start, Liam realized it was Zayn. He could tell, even though Zayn's face was turned away, his feet being towards the audience. Zayn had arched upward for a moment and a second later all of the other dancers sprang into life. 

They flowed away from each other, making rhythmic dips from the waist and repeated grasping motions with their hands. They were barefoot but kept very live on their toes. Yuki was suddenly in the middle of a semi-circle, performing a series of hip shimmies almost reminiscent of belly dance but with arm and head movements that came entirely from modern. A quick shift and now it was John in the spotlight, turning coyly three quarters away from the audience, running one hand up from his hip to his chest as he rose up high onto his toes. With an extended pas de bouree he was suddenly facing away from the audience all together, reaching one hand searchingly toward his fellow dancers. Just as quickly he was facing forward again, rising on his feet with clenched fists in an exaggerated inhalation. He quivered there for a moment before sinking back down on the exhale. 

The dancers swirled back into a group and Liam's eyes returned to Zayn who was still lying, inexplicably, on the floor. Every now and then he would arch upward, pushing his hips forward and his shoulders off the ground. The rest of the dancers seemed to be ignoring him altogether, except for the occasional alignment of a minor crescendo in their movement with the curving of Zayn's spine and the rise of his bare chest. Liam could see his hands, pressed flat against the floor at his sides, and the way the tendons stood out in his feet and ankles with every movement. Zayn's toes alternately curled and strained. Every breath seemed to fill and hollow his ribs. Now he rose up and there was a tremor in his wrists and in the cords of his throat. It looked like... it looked like... 

Niall leaned over to mutter, not especially quietly, in Liam's ear. _“It looks like Zayn's getting an invisible blow job!”_

 _“Shut up,”_ hissed Liam, by way of agreement. Because that was it. It looked _exactly_ like Zayn was lying on the floor at the back of the stage, in his own private spotlight, receiving a blow job from an invisible partner. _What the fuck was going on with this choreography?_ Liam was unable to look at anything but Zayn. His skin prickled and he nearly held his breath as Zayn thrust upward between agonizingly long periods of stillness. Liam's left arm itched furiously under his cast. He felt, paradoxically, that he really shouldn't be watching- while at the same time feeling that no one in the audience _except for him_ should be watching. The palms of his hands were burning. Liam tried closing his eyes but that was actually worse. Now he was left imagining what Zayn looked like, stretched out and quivering, imagining his voice, the feel of his skin...

It was impossible for Liam to ignore how turned on he was, and the only way out of it was anger. Who the hell had choreographed this piece? Which teacher had approved it? And why had Zayn agreed to do it? Liam tried to focus on the standing dancers but now all of their movements seemed tinged with a sexual overtone as well. The whole fucking dance was hips thrusts. And Liam recalled Harry's words _“...you are going to DIE when you see Zayn in Damien's piece...”_

Well, Harry was right, Liam kind of did feel like he was dying. Possibly of evisceration. Liam had been carefully (and, he had thought, successfully) talking himself out of a crush on Zayn for months now. It was just- there were so many reasons why Liam should not have a crush on Zayn. Zayn was really serious about pursuing dance; Liam was dropping out of the program. Zayn would graduate from Directions in one more year; Liam was now looking at two or even three more years at Benedictine to finish his late-started major. Even if they were to both move back to England eventually, which was in no way guaranteed, their families lived more than three hours apart. (Not that Liam had researched this). But most importantly, Liam was pretty sure it wasn't what Zayn wanted. Because surely Zayn would have told him, if it was what he wanted. They talked about everything. Liam had never been able to talk with anyone the way he could talk with Zayn. But now it was too late to ask, too late for any kind of answer. The term was basically over and there was no way that Liam was going to do anything at this point to endanger the friendship he had built with Zayn. It was too important to him. He honestly didn't think either of them would have made it through this semester without the other, and Harry _definitely_ wouldn't have made it without Liam and Zayn presenting a united front. Under these circumstances Liam simply did not have the time or the luxury to indulge in a stupid and useless crush. He was able to completely ignore it most of the time. 

But now there was Zayn, near to naked and _writhing_ on the floor, and Liam was burning. He was hyper aware of every part of his body, of every inch of his own skin; of his breath catching shallow in his throat; of how his heart seemed to have stopped at some point and restarted with a painful arrhythmia; of the single bead of sweat that was running down his side; of the press of every seam in the crotch of his jeans... All he could see was Zayn. Liam had been _so fucking careful_ to not visualize this, _ever_ (not when he was bored in class; not when he was lying alone in his dorm room and _definitely_ not when he was in the shower). But all his care was now for naught because something more real than anything he could have come up with was playing itself out right in front of him. Thanks a lot, _Damien,_ you asshole. Liam might possibly have to punch that guy next time he saw him, for even thinking of putting Zayn in this position. He still didn't understand why Zayn had _agreed_ to it. 

At last the piece ended, and when the lights went down Liam was left shaking in the dark. Intellectually he knew this piece had probably been no longer than any of the other senior pieces, but emotionally it had been twenty times as long. The entire next dance passed without Liam really registering any of it. If pressed, he might have said the dancers had been wearing mostly green. Mainly Liam was just grateful that it was set to a fairly calming instrumental cello song, because it helped get his breathing and his heart rate back to normal. 

Liam was very glad that he was able to refocus his attention when the last piece of the evening's performance started. This piece was almost twice as long as most of the senior pieces, and had been choreographed by Erin Solstine, a visiting artist for the spring semester. It was a rework of a piece she had first choreographed in New York called “The Return of Winter.” Liam had been hearing all year that this piece was phenomenal and the reports were not exaggerated. 

The piece included twelve dancers, who were already moving when the lights came up. They were all wearing distressed or raggedly dyed tank tops and shorts that were almost skirts- the legs were very wide and had asymmetrical tags or flaps of fabric hanging down which fluttered around the dancer's calves. Everyone was in shades of soft gray, dark brown, charcoal and grungy beige. The dancers were also wearing short black socks which served to emphasize all of the movements of their feet. Their hair was loose and tossed about their heads as they ran across the dance floor. 

At the start of the piece nine of the dancers formed a diagonal line across the floor, slating from downstage right to upstage left. At center left three dancers stood still by the wall, just watching for now. One of those was Harry. The dancers in the line moved like a wave, each taking one heavy step forward and wheeling their right arms as if smashing something onto the ground, before pulling back with a rolling curve of the spine. The effect was of waves crashing against the shore. At another point half the dancers huddled in place, crouched in a V formation, while the others flung themselves into the center, using their momentum to throw themselves into spins and leaps that transitioned directly into footwork. The speed was exhilarating and terrifying. Every dancer on the stage was performing at a higher level than Liam had ever seen them bring before. They trusted their strength and their training and they hurled themselves into the dance.

The couched dancers rolled back their shoulders and stood up. The group broke like a scattering of birds and reformed into two sections. They ran at each other from opposite sides of the stage, and at the last second one group turned, raising their arms and beating their feet upon the floor in a flurry of pounding steps. The other group ducked low, threading between them- only to turn at once, raising their own arms and pounding their own rhythm. They wove between each other- the foxes in the field, the hunters in the forest. Their black feet flashed and stamped upon the floor. Now they all wheeled around to face the same way, having moved into an evenly spaced net of bodies that filled the stage. They leapt into the air as one entity, their arms curved like the wings of crows. The timing was _impeccable._ They landed and moved as one being, a quick series of beating steps to the left then right, left then right. The contrast of seeing ballet moves and positions performed with such flat feet held an inherent internal contradiction. These dancers were no air-light creatures, floating above the stage in the eighteen century ideal of the ballerina unfettered by gravity. These dancers had weight and heft- their muscles strained and their bodies yelled a defiant proclamation of existence and power. These dancers were human beings, with all the flaws and virtues that entailed. 

And everywhere in the dance was Harry. His curls dripped with sweat as he tossed back his head on a spin. His leaps were higher than anyone else's- his legs seemingly made half of steel, half of elastic. He didn't simply perform the dance, he embodied it. The force of his energy, the force of his will, was evident in every move. Harry's dancing made Liam forget to watch for technique- it simply drew him in, demanding a response that was emotional rather than analytical. Harry had that spark, that charisma that lit up an entire piece. The strength of his talent did not overshadow his fellow dancers but instead emboldened them- they drew heat from him as from a fire, and all of them were better for it. It was electric. It was riveting. And in the end it left the audience stunned. The piece ended with a fierce crescendo, and the lights died. The dancers did not take a bow. They didn't need to. It would have been like asking for a bow from a thunderstorm. 

As the house lights slowly rose again on the empty stage the audience seemed to take a first collective breath. The applause that followed was louder than any Liam had heard in this theater before. The standing ovation was immediately and universal- people stamped their feet on the floor, imitating, almost, the moves of the dance. No one seemed to want to stop clapping. It was as if they had collectively been through a cathartic experience. At last the noise began to die down, people reaching to collect their jackets from the backs of seats. Some traded looks as if to say _what we have seen here was exceptional._ Slowly, the lingering effects of the dance faded. A little talked started up, and people began to make their way back out to the lobby. Niall nodded at Liam with his eyebrows raised, a look of frank amazement and pride on his face. 

“Harry,” said Niall.

“Harry,” said Liam. It was all that was needed. 

Niall and Liam joined the crowd filtering down the aisle and funneling into the hallway before making it out into the brightly lit foyer. The city outside the glass doors was now fully dark, gloomy and damp with fog. Inside it was full of the celebratory sounds of an audience at the end of a good show. Parents, grandparents, siblings, friends and (hopefully) representatives from various dance companies mingled, laughing and talking loudly. A few carried bouquets meant for the seniors who had presented this evening. Liam knew that some of this audience had flown in from all over the States to see this performance. 

When Liam had come into the Directions/Benedictine program as a freshman, the only other international student had been a French guy in his third year. Liam had already been in the minority of Directions students by choosing to take the academic classes at Benedictine and it had been pretty lonely. He hadn't made any particularly good friends and he had never improved past solidly average in class. He had actually been on the verge of leaving the program at the end of his first year. But he hated the idea of giving something such a half-hearted effort, so he had gritted his teeth and decided to stick it out for two more semesters. 

That summer Directions had received a huge grant from a private donor and they had completely re-written their scholarship program, making it much more affordable for international students. Liam returned in the fall to find that he and Stephan had been joined by four girls from Canada, two girls from China, a guy from Norway, a girl from Italy and of course- three more guys from England and one guy from Ireland. The friendship that Liam had formed with these four had been unexpected and all-encompassing. It had been one of the best periods of Liam's life, while it lasted... 

There was a little burst of clapping as all the dancers began to trickle in down the hall from the greenrooms. Without the magic of makeup and lights most of them looked dog tired and sweaty, but they smiled hugely as they accepted hugs and congratulations from their families. Harry and Zayn came down the hall together, talking about something Liam couldn't hear over the buzz. Harry had changed into tight black jeans and those little ankle high boots he favored. He was also wearing a blue button up shirt, tails un-tucked and sleeves rolled to the elbow. His hair was back in a messy ponytail. Zayn was wearing gray skinny jeans and his faded old Batman t-shirt with a plaid flannel long sleeve over it. Liam saw the exact moment that both of them caught sight of him and then Niall. Their expressions of shocked delight, then gleeful exhilaration were just what Liam had hoped for. The odd little moment of dizzy unreality Liam felt on seeing Zayn was resolutely ignored. 

“NIALL!” Harry bellowed at the top of his voice, elbowing his way through. Heads turned at his passing. Harry never traveled through life quietly. Zayn, who always did, took advantage of the void left in his wake. 

“Oh my god, how did you even- AHHHHH!” Harry jumped at Niall hugging him so fiercely that they almost toppled over. Liam shoved hard on Niall's back to right them, fearing for Niall's knees. 

“Whose idea was this, _Liam,_ did you do this??” Harry demanded, delighted. He didn't wait for the answer to his own question, spinning Niall around. “I am so freaking glad to see you!”

“It was Liam, all Liam,” said Niall, laughing.

“Why didn't you tell us?” Zayn asked, grabbing Niall for his own hug as soon as Harry had released him. 

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” Liam grinned. “You were both so good tonight. Really good.” 

“Thank you, _Liam the mastermind,_ ” said Harry, slinging one arm over Liam's shoulder. “So much going on in that head of yours!” He noogied the top of Liam's head, making the most of his height advantage. 

“What kind of thanks is that?” Liam yelped. “See if I ever do anything nice for you again!” 

Harry let go of him, laughing. 

“I liked that last piece you were in, Zayn,” said Niall, elbowing Zayn in the ribs. “You looked pretty hot, you know, for a dude.” 

“You're pretty good at giving compliments, you know, for an idiot,” Zayn retorted. 

“I give fucking awesome compliments,” said Niall. “Would you like me to give you some compliments? There is so much about you I could compliment.” 

“Ugh, please don't,” said Zayn, wincing. 

“What was that piece about?” Liam asked, more bluntly than he'd intended. “Why'd you do it?” 

“Well, cause I was asked, you know,” said Zayn. “It looks good on a CV. Also I thought the whole concept Damien had behind the dance was pretty interesting.” 

“Which was?” Liam pressed. 

“It was about how so many narratives around romance and relationships in movies and other entertainment media hinge entirely on miscommunication,” said Zayn. “And like, how much better those narratives could be if the creators just skipped all that and had the characters actually talk with each other. So, you know, you could get on with telling a more interesting and sophisticated story.” 

“Uh huh,” said Liam. That sounded like exactly the kind of bullshit that Damien would come up and that Zayn would fall for. 

“You're not telling him the best part though, Zayn,” said Harry grinning. “Tell him the best part!” 

“The best part??” Liam demanded, his voice coming out surprisingly loud. 

“Was it being naked on stage? I know you're into that,” Niall teased. Liam gave him A Look. 

“Well, you know, my part was actually really easy, cause I didn't have to learn any steps,” said Zayn. “So during most of the rehearsals I got to just sit on the side and put my headphones in and read or draw in my sketchbook or whatever. It was great.” 

“Such a _Zayn answer!_ ” Harry laughed. “Do you even want to dance? Maybe you should just go live in that comic book store instead?” 

“Of course I want to dance,” said Zayn, affronted. “But most days we're dancing for like nine hours. Sometimes it's nice to have a section in the middle of the day all to yourself. I'm gonna miss it next semester. Though you two will be back with us,” he added, smiling. Liam's stomach fell at that smile. 

“We'll have you back, _Niall, Niall, crocodile!_ ” crowed Harry, who had apparently had enough of civilized conversation for the moment. He seized both of Niall's hands and began dancing them around in a circle. 

“ _Harry, Harry, quite contrary!_ ” exclaimed Niall- the traditional response. They began to joyfully and tunelessly sing their own revised dirty version of the nursery rhyme at top volume. 

“Christ, I had forgotten about this,” muttered Zayn. 

“Can we pretend we don't know them?” asked Liam, half serious. 

“I think it's too late for that, everyone's already seen us talking with them,” said Zayn ruefully. Liam made a snap decision. 

“Zayn- I need to talk to you for a second,” said Liam, pulling him a little away while Harry and Niall were distracted. Zayn followed at once, quirking one eyebrow. 

“What's up?” he asked. 

“I wanted to say,” Liam started- but then panicked, because he had no idea how to finish the sentence. Maybe _I'm quitting dance; can you forgive me?_ Or _You were incredible- I couldn't take my eyes off you?_ Or more truthfully- _I kind of have this terrible crush on you- how do you feel about that?_

Liam had no idea which, if any, of those things might have fallen from his mouth as he hesitated, dizzy with nerves; Zayn continued to look at him with faint puzzlement. But Liam would never find out because at that very moment Eleanor's voice rose, shrill and high, cutting through the comfortable rumble of after-show chatter. 

_“LOUIS??”_ She called and everyone's heads turned. Liam heard her but he also didn't hear- or perhaps he just didn't believe what he heard. He and Zayn both turned towards the sound of her voice. His eyes found Eleanor first, standing by the little table on which, earlier in the evening, Liam had folded programs. And there, _incredibly, undeniably,_ was Louis. It was so disorienting, so unexpected that he should be there that all Liam could do was stare at him. Liam's words withered on his lips and all thought disappeared from his mind. 

Louis was standing in the doorway leading from the theater to the foyer. He looked like a wild animal caught in a car's rapidly advancing headlights. He had half a tentative smile on his face, but his eyes were shifty and from his body language Liam guessed he might have been trying to slip out through the dark cafe and exit onto the street, unnoticed. Too late for that now. As soon as Eleanor's voice had rang out people had immediately began to crowd around him. In a minute Elias was raising his hand for a high five and Perrie was giving him a hug and Eleanor was kissing his check. Liam tended to forget that other people might have missed Louis; that Louis had not just pulled the disappearing act on him, Harry, Niall and Zayn but on the rest of their classmates as well. Their own loss had been so incomprehensible it over shadowed Liam's awareness of everyone else's. 

Beside him, Liam felt Zayn look to Harry; following his gaze, Liam saw Harry standing, stock still. He had one hand clasped in Niall's, the only sign of their silly dance. Harry, who this evening had been a flame, a flood, a whirlwind on the stage, was now a statue carved of stone. He too was staring at Louis, his eyes blank and unreadable. 

Louis was wearing scruffy black shoes, tight black jeans with holes in the knees, a sleeveless black t-shirt and a frayed denim vest. He had more tattoos than Liam remembered. His hair was longer too, semi-styled into various points that straddled a borderline between hipster and needing a haircut. His eyes had visible shadows of tiredness beneath them, and it had been at least a few days since he had shaved. Louis had never dressed like a dancer- much in the same way, Liam reflected, that he and Niall had never really dressed like dancers. Liam wondered fleetingly if someone with deductive observation skills could have predicted, based purely on their wardrobes, that of the five of them only Harry and Zayn would still be dancing a year later. 

Louis- surrounded now by a crowd of their classmates in leggings or sweatpants or yoga pants, oversized t-shirts in fuchsia, turquoise or yellow, or hoodies with Broadway show logos on them- looked even less like a dancer than he had before. More like a failed rock musician or an exhausted barista. 

“Oh my god, Louis, it's so good to see you!” Hannah was saying now. “Why didn't you tell us you were going to be here?” 

“Yeah,” said Perrie. “What did you think, did you see the whole show?” 

“Nah,” said Louis. Even his voice sounded different- higher, maybe. “I came in at intermission. Saw the second half.” 

Liam remembered suddenly the light in the hallway when the theater door had opened and the vague dark shape of a person ducking in late. _Son of a bitch._

“I'm so glad you came,” Eleanor was gushing beside him. She reached out for his hand but Louis had reached up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously; her fingers missed his and closed on empty air. Louis's eyes had not left Harry for an instant. Liam looked between them now; he felt he could almost see the tension there, like a plucked string, like a fault line. 

“Why haven't you been answering texts, man?” John asked. 

“Ah,” said Louis. He looked deeply uncomfortable. “I sorta... lost my phone? So I don't have anyone's number.” 

“Isn't that what facebook's for?” demanded Perrie, laughing. “You put up a post like 'I dropped my phone in the toilet because I'm a dumbass, please everyone give me your number again'.” 

“I'm not really... on facebook anymore,” said Louis, making it sounds almost like a question. 

“Email!” said Eleanor. “I emailed you like, six times in the past few weeks.” 

“I've been really busy,” Louis said vaguely. 

“Do you even still live in the city?” Perrie demanded. 

“Yeah, I'm in the Mission.” 

Liam felt himself let out a breath- beside him Zayn did the same. They traded a look. _So that's where he's been hiding._ Niall seemed to decide the girl's interrogation had been going on long enough. He jumped in, shifting the focus to himself and to Liam, Zayn and Harry standing around him. 

“The Mission's got _the best_ food in the city,” said Niall. “D'you like where you're living?” 

“No, it sucks,” said Louis. “I'm sharing a place with like eight people and I hate it. But I'm not there very much- I'm working a lot, trying to save money to move- somewhere.” 

“Where are you working?” Liam asked, the obvious next question. 

“At- at Whole Foods,” Louis said, sounding faintly embarrassed. 

“Which one?” Zayn demanded sharply. 

“17th and Rhode Island,” said Louis quietly. Liam wondered if he was lying; he hoped not. That store was less than one mile from the theater where they were standing now. A fifteen minute walk. It was as if Louis had been taunting them, working practically next door. But Louis must have known none of them would every shop there. They got all their groceries at Safeway. Who could afford Whole Foods on a student budget? It was the yuppiest job in the city. It was worse than working at an Apple store. 

Harry had still not said anything. Liam wondered if he planned on speaking to Louis ever again. Possibly not, and Liam didn't really blame him. At least half of the crowd that had filled the foyer had trickled out by now, and around them people were exchanging last hugs and goodbyes. The small group of Niall, Liam, Zayn and Harry was becoming more and more of an island. A few people said goodbye to Louis, telling him to call or text so they could catch up. Perrie and Eleanor left together, citing dinner plans. 

“Harry, Harry, man,” said Niall quietly, shaking his arm a little. “You have t' let go of my hand or your gonna break my fingers.” 

Harry seemed to wake up a little. He looked down to where he had been squeezing Niall's hand painfully hard- he let go, somewhat in surprise. As if Harry's movement had granted him permission Louis took two or three steps nearer to their group. Not quite entering their space, but nearing it. 

“So, umm... you guys still living on Pine Street, then?” Louis asked. He directed the question somewhere halfway between Zayn and Harry, as he seemed almost afraid to look at either one of them. 

“Yes,” said Zayn. 

“We live in exactly the same place,” said Harry, curtly. Six months of pent aggression simmered in his voice. _You could have found us there at anytime,_ his tone seemed to say. _You could have come back but you NEVER DID._

“That's, uh, good,” said Louis. He seemed to sense the animosity rolling off Harry and turned to Liam instead. “When did- when did you break your arm? Recently?” 

“End of January,” said Liam, shortly. He'd be damned before he made this any easier for Louis.

“Ah,” Louis winced. 

This reminder of how long Louis had been gone fell between them. Niall broke the silence before the awkward moment could stretch too long- he was the only one generous enough to do so. 

“Glad you could make tonight,” said Niall. “I just flew in today, wasn't sure I'd get to see you.” As if mere scheduling might have kept them apart. 

“Uh- yeah,” said Louis. He seemed to be searching for something more to say. He was rubbing the back of his neck again. “Yeah,” he repeated. 

“Why did you come tonight?” asked Zayn. He was frowning, as if he genuinely wanted to know. _Why now_ might have been his actual question. 

“I got the email- you know, the one that events lady sends out?” Louis raised his eyebrows. “It had- it had a PDF of the program attached...” He risked one glance at Harry. 

_Harry,_ thought Liam. _Harry on the cover of the program._

“But I only saw it this morning so... I didn't have time to request the evening off work... I came after my shift was over... ” Louis trailed off. 

“Better late than never, I guess,” said Niall. Liam wasn't so sure about that. He grimaced in Zayn's direction. Zayn looked deeply unimpressed. 

“Say, what are you doing for the rest of the night?” Niall asked brightly. “Cause I was promised Chinese food!” 

_Oh shit,_ thought Liam. 

“Nothing, really,” said Louis, cautiously.

 _Shit shit fucking shit, no, Niall!_ thought Liam. He opened his mouth, trying to figure out what to say to prevent the inevitable...

“You should come get food with us!” said Niall excitedly. “You guys are hungry, right?” he demanded of the rest of them. 

“Yeah, but...” Zayn started. 

“You should come!” Niall repeated to Louis, cutting Zayn off. 

“Would that be... alright?” Louis asked. There was a pathetic note in his voice, half skeptical, half hopeful, that made one crack in the walls that Liam had built against him. Liam's cynical side was screaming that they had burned too badly to trust again. But his sympathetic side was whispering that Louis looked terrible. There was a greyish undertone to his skin and a hollowness around his eyes; the set of his shoulders was both rigid and defensive. Whatever he had been up to in the past half year had not treated him well. It had left him worn and miserable. 

Liam looked to Harry. He realized that all of them, perhaps instinctively, were waiting for Harry to answer. Harry was looking at Louis now, not with the unapproachable stare he had had earlier, but with a tiny frown of appraisal. Liam knew that Harry would see everything that he had seen in Louis, and probably more. Of all of them, Harry had known Louis the best. After a long moment, Harry spoke. 

“Alright,” he said, with no emotion. 

“Sweet! Lucky Cat!” exclaimed Niall happily. 

Zayn gave Liam a look. _What are we in for?_ He seemed to be asking. Liam shook his head. He had no answer. 

They trooped out to the car in silence. Niall was the only one who seemed completely pleased with the situation. Liam got into the driver's seat. Harry had called shot gun as soon as the car was in sight and no one had argued him for it. That in and of itself was a sign of how ill at ease they all were with each other. Niall, Louis and Zayn were squashed together in the back. 

The car ride from the theater to the restaurant was tense, to say the least. Niall tried several times to start up conversations but received only monosyllables from Louis and Zayn. Harry was staring out of his window fixedly, watching the red glow of tail lights in the fog. Liam kept having to run the windshield wipers for one stoke and then turn them off again. At the stoplight waiting to get onto Van Ness Liam reached over to put on the radio, desperate for something to cut the silence. It was tuned to Alice but he switched it to Live 105 and came in on the end of a Black Keys song. Liam turned it up a little. He had not bothered to pull up directions on his phone- he definitely didn't need them- but he almost wished he had, just to have the occasional interruption of the navigation voice. The next song that came up was “Take Me to Church” by Hozier. Liam continue down Van Ness hitting mostly green lights as they crossed Market and passed by city hall, lit up at night as always.

_Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shine of your lies  
I'll tell you my sins, you can sharpen your knife  
Offer me that deathless death, good god, let me give you my life..._

Normally Liam quite liked this song. Right now though it seemed to be filling the car with yet another layer of weird energy. At the second repeat of the chorus Liam found himself almost hyper aware of the lyrics, wondering for the first time what they actually meant. He spent the next three minutes debated silently with himself whether it would be more awkward to just let it play or to shut it off in the middle. It was pure relief when the song ended and the station switched to ads. Liam reached forward, grateful for the excuse, and turned it down. Not one word was said in the car before Liam turned off Geary and into the tiny sloped parking lot. Liam got out and slammed his door. If the whole meal passed like this, he thought grimly, it was going to be an ordeal.

The interior of the Lucky Cat looked nothing like your standard Americanized Chinese restaurant. Liam always felt it looked more like a diner that had changed hands. There was a long bar running along the middle section, the first thing visible when you walked in. There were TVs mounted near the ceiling at either end, generally running a baseball game. Most of the rest of the place was divided into alcoves of tables with bench seating, all the benches upholstered in green leather. There were red glass candle holders that had never, in Liam's memory, actually held lit candles. These sat next to the napkin holders on each uncovered wood veneer table. The main nod to the namesake was a collection of various cat statues clustered around the cash register, each with one paw raised in the familiar wave. The food was decent, but not extraordinary. As a restaurant, the Lucky Cat's primary virtues were it's proximity to Harry and Zayn's apartment and the fact it was open until midnight. 

Niall lead the way to their usual corner, picking a table a good distance away from the few other scatted late night diners. He slid in first on the left side and Louis followed him. Liam distinctly did _not_ want to sit next to Louis, so he slide in on the right and ended up across from Niall. It turned out that neither Zayn nor Harry wanted to sit next to Louis either, and so both scooted in on the right side after Liam. It made their side of the table a little crowded. 

A tired waitress came around to hand out menus and take orders for drinks. Liam wasn't usually bothered by having been pushed back under the legal drinking age when he moved to California, but if he had been able to this evening he would definitely have ordered a beer. Maybe something stronger. Possibly they had something back at the apartment. Liam and Niall were both planning to spend tonight and probably tomorrow night in the city with Harry and Zayn. 

Louis had picked up one of the menus and was staring down at it, as if they didn't all know every item on it by heart- how many times had they eaten here last semester? Once a week? His presence seemed to have killed any topic of conversation the others might have brought up. They had been sitting at the table now for at least ten minutes in almost total silence. Even Niall didn't know what to say. Suddenly, Liam was _furious_ at Louis, _blindingly_ furious. Of course he was still angry for the unforgivable exit Louis had made from their lives- but right now, in this moment, it was _everything else_ that was setting Liam off. He remembered the giddy, cheerful air that had existed between him, Niall, Harry and Zayn before Louis had stepped out of the theater door. Louis had _ruined_ it. Louis had ruined the surprise of Niall that he, _Liam,_ had worked so hard to create. Sure, there would have been a Louis-sized hole at the table if they had eaten here without him, a shared ache that would have been impossible to ignore. But at least they would have been _talking._ Niall would have been telling stories, Harry would have been making stupid jokes, Zayn would have asked Liam about his classes and filled him in on all the shit their classmates had been getting up to. Liam could have sat back and enjoyed basking in the glow of his successful surprise. But _noooo._ Louis _fucking_ Tomlinson had to show up and grab the spot light once again like the _FUCKING DRAMA QUEEN_ that he was---! 

“I have to use the restroom,” said Liam abruptly. Harry and Zayn were both forced to slid out from behind the table and stand to let Liam out. He scooted out off the bench and stalked away towards the other end of the restaurant without looking back. If he looked at Louis for one more second he was going to punch him. Liam shoved open the men's room door. It was blessedly empty and quiet. He took one moment to just stand, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. 

Liam sighed heavily and headed for the toilets. He pissed and zipped up his fly. He moved to the sink, letting cold water run over his fingers. Maybe he should stick his head under the water. Maybe that would cool him. Liam shook his head and turned off the tap. The bathroom door opened behind him and Liam looked up automatically, meeting Zayn's eyes in the mirror. 

“You left them alone out there?” asked Liam, turning around. 

Zayn rolled his eyes. “They're not going to cause a scene in a restaurant.” 

Liam snorted. “You sure?”

“Well, hopefully Niall will pull them apart again,” said Zayn, with some exasperation. 

“Hopefully,” said Liam. He yanked out a paper towel with more violence than was needed. 

Zayn was watching him carefully. “You okay?” he asked, after a moment. 

“I don't know,” said Liam. He dried his hands and then scrubbed the damp paper towel over his face. “I mean- _yeah._ I will be. I just-- needed a minute.” 

“I could tell,” said Zayn. 

Liam was silent for a moment, shredding the napkin into pieces before throwing it away. 

“I am so _fucking_ angry with him,” Liam said tightly. “I _literally_ want to strangle him. I do not want to deal with him and his shit right now. I just wanted to hang out with you and Harry and Niall-” He broke off, clenching his teeth. 

“Hey, hey, I know,” Zayn murmured. He reached out to Liam, catching hold of his hand. “He's a fucking asshole, always has been. But we'll be alright.” 

Liam laced their fingers together. “Will we?” he asked, a little desperately. 

“We survived him _leaving,_ ” said Zayn quietly. “We'll survive him coming back.” 

Liam let his eyes close and for a moment he focused on nothing but the pressure of Zayn's hand in his. It was the anchor that kept him from drifting out to sea; it was the tether that kept him tied to Earth. Zayn's hand squeezed his briefly then loosened and when Liam opened his eyes Zayn had stepped away. Belately, Liam realized it might have looked slightly weird if anyone else had come in to see them holding hands in the bathroom. Oh well. No one else had come in. 

“Ready to head back?” Zayn asked, tilting his head a little towards the door. 

“I guess,” said Liam, tiredly. The fight had drained out of him, anyway, leaving him just resigned. He followed Zayn out and back to their table. Harry and Niall were talking a little, Louis listening between them. They paused when Harry had to stand up (for the third time) to let Liam and Zayn back into the booth. 

“We ordered for you,” Niall informed them. “The usual stuff.” 

“Great,” said Zayn. He scooted in close beside Liam, so that their knees were touching. Liam gave him a little nod, grateful for the moral support. 

“Thanks,” Liam said to Niall. “What else did we miss?”

“Niall's been telling us about his musical friend,” drawled Harry. “And I've been questioning his sexuality again.” 

“He just writes really good lyrics!” exclaimed Niall. 

“He writes _really good lyrics,_ ” Harry repeated, raising one eyebrow suggestively at Liam. Liam snorted. Harry had a pot of jasmine tea in front of him, which usually he ordered to share- but he only had one cup, so no sharing tonight, Liam assumed. 

“Straight guys can be _friends,_ ” Niall growled. “Gay dudes and ladies do not have a monopoly on friendship!” 

“Yes, Ni, but when was the last time you went out with anyone other than Ed?” Harry asked wickedly. 

“Ah, low blow dude,” said Niall, throwing up his hands. “That's it, no more information about my life for _you._ I am definitely _not_ sending you any youtube videos now.” 

“There's videos of you playing on youtube?” Zayn asked. “Can I see them?”

“Are you playing your guitar in any of them?” Harry demanded. 

“I guess you'll never know,” said Niall, sitting back and folding his arms. He gazed off in the direction of the TV over the bar. 

“Oh come, I know you're straight, I didn't mean it,” Harry wheedled. “I want to see your guitar!” 

“Should have thought of that before you started talking shit then,” said Niall, loftily. 

Liam smiled to himself. He knew that Niall wasn't serious, and Harry knew that Niall wasn't serious, and _Niall_ knew that Niall wasn't serious. But it was fun to see them at it again. They both turned into such five-year-olds around each other- Liam had missed it. He realized, though, that Harry was basically talking only at Niall and completely ignoring Louis, was sitting just beside Niall. This seemed to be the strategy that Harry had settled on. It was as if Louis was sitting at their table, but separated from them by a sheet of glass. He could see them, but could not interact. He had his chin rested on one hand as he watching the banter between Niall and Harry turn steadily more ridiculous. Liam thought Louis looked rather wistful, not an expression Liam generally associated with him. Maybe Louis had missed this as well. 

_He's fucking here,_ thought Liam. _If no one else is going to deal with that I guess I have to._ Ugh. Why did cleaning up the mess always fall to him? Probably useless to question it. 

“I realized I never even asked how you got to the theater- you walked, right?” Liam asked. Louis's eyes widened almost comically at being spoken to. “We didn't strand your car somewhere?” Liam clarified. 

“No... no, I walked,” said Louis. He folded both of his arms carefully in front of him. “I don't have a car- I don't really need one.” 

“It's better not to if you live in the city, parking here is crazy,” said Liam. Half his mind was disgusted to be talking about parking- what was next, the weather?- but Liam ignored it. 

“I also- don't go anywhere,” said Louis. His voice was very neutral. “I mean- I go to work and then I go back to the house. That's it, really.” 

“You work full time?” Zayn asked. 

“I work as many hours as I can get,” said Louis. 

“Hmm,” said Liam. He wanted to say something like 'that sounds boring' but maybe Louis liked it, who knew. There hadn't been one trace of snark in Louis all evening. It was kind of unnerving. Liam didn't know what to make of it. 

A different waitress came over, carrying two heavy plates. She was younger than the one who had given them menus- probably about their age, with a pony-tale of curly reddish hair. She looked very familiar- Liam was pretty sure she's been working here as long as they'd been coming. 

“Hello there,” she said, sliding the two plates onto the table. Orange sesame chicken, and beef mixed with steamed vegetables. They smelled amazing. “The rest of your food is on the way, alright?” 

“Perfect!” said Niall, managing to be the first one to the serving spoons. 

“Thanks,” said Zayn. 

It took her three more trips, but pretty soon the table was crowded with plates heaped with steaming food. In addition to the chicken and beef dishes they had fried rice, white rice, chicken chow mein, prawns cooked with broccoli, snow peas and water chestnuts, crispy noodles, sweet and sour pork, mu shu vegetables and a plate of fried wontons that Niall seemed to want to eat all by himself. The red-headed waitress topped off each of their water glasses as they started passing the dishes around. 

“Is there anything else you guys need?” the waitress asked. 

“I think we're good, Robin,” said Niall, giving her an easy smile. “How are the Giants doing so far this season?” he added, nodding to the closer TV over the bar. 

“Oh, really good!” said Robin, suddenly animated. “They're top of the NL West right now, fifteen and ten at home, twelve and ten away.” 

“And how's your favorite, Buster Posey?” Niall asked. 

“Three home runs and sixteen RBIs, but unfortunately still married,” she said, smiling. “What can you do?” She gave a good-natural shrug and headed back to the kitchen. Niall laughed and turned his attention to seriously filling his plate. 

That was so like Niall, thought Liam, piling orange chicken on top of his rice. Not only did Niall remember the waitress's name after six months away he even remembered her favorite ballplayer. Louis was less impressed. 

“Favorite Giants player?” Louis scoffed. “Who even has a favorite Giants player?” 

“I do,” said Niall. “Sergio Romo.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Harry laughed. 

“One of the pitchers,” said Niall. He stuffed half a wonton into his mouth. 

“The one with the long hair?” Zayn asked doubtfully. 

“Not Tim Lincecum. The closer.” Niall's voice was muffled. 

“And why is he your favorite player, is he really good or something?” Liam asked, sorting through the veggies on the dish in front of him. He scooped the snow peas, carrots and broccoli onto his plate but left the bok choy and mushrooms behind. 

“He is really good, but I like him because he's funny. He does this talk show once a week on KNBR,” said Niall. “Or last semester he used to, anyway. It was on Thursdays between eight and nine in the morning, did you ever listen to it?” 

“No, Niall,” said Harry seriously. “I think it's pretty safe to say that no one at this table would think to turn on the local sports radio station at half eight in the morning except for you.” 

“Just because you lads are gay doesn't mean you can't enjoy sports,” said Niall airily, which earned him several yells of “Oi!” and “Footie!” and a chop stick thrown at his head from Harry. 

(Liam remembered the first time Niall had expressed his surprise over the gay verses straight ratio of their friends group. “How bloody likely is it that out of the five of us _four_ of you are gay?” Niall had asked. Liam had given him a look. “Niall, we all chose to go into a ballet dance program in San Francisco. I'm surprised _five_ out of five of us aren't gay.”) 

“I care about proper sports,” said Louis testily. “But not fucking baseball. The guys I live with have it on all the time- like, _everyday_ when I get home from work. I've tried to watch it. It's boring as hell.” 

This was pretty much the first bit of information that Louis had voluntarily shared about his current living situation, Liam noted. Harry seemed to notice it as well. 

“Who are all these guys you live with?” Harry asked, addressing Louis directly for the first time since they'd sat down at the table. 

“They're- they're just guys,” said Louis quickly. “I don't really know any of them very well. One guy, Nick, works at Whole Foods with me- he's the one who set me up at the house. They had another roommate who worked at Mozilla but he moved out so I got his place.” 

“What do the rest of them do?” Harry asked. 

Liam realized that Zayn and Niall had decided to hold their tongues for the moment, just as he had- all of them giving Harry space to ask the questions. 

“Most of them work at restaurants in the Mission,” said Louis. “One guy works at a tattoo parlor- he gave me this,” Louis pointed to the stag on his shoulder. “He's kind of still practicing...” he added, sounding faintly embarrassed. “It was free.” 

“I wondered,” said Harry. His eyes seemed to have been drawn not to the stag (which Liam thought looked pretty terrible) but rather to the heart caught in its antlers. 

Harry did not ask more, and Louis did not volunteer anything else. Liam thought that none of them were ready to face the huge question yet, the elephant at the table, the why. It was too soon; Louis too newly returned into their lives. Liam wasn't a hundred percent convinced yet that it would last. Maybe they would have this one final meal together, and afterward Louis would disappear again into night, fading back into the maze of the city, or god knew where. He had been gone for half as long as they had all known each other, Liam realized. It might take that long again for them to trust him, if they ever did. They all fell quiet for a time, except for asking for things to be passed, as they cleaned the dishes one by one. 

Sometime later, when all the wontons had vanished, Niall set his fork down and looked around the table. “I'm sure you men are all wondering why I've called you together tonight,” he said, with a slow grin. This got a snort from Harry and slight smiles from Zayn and Louis. Liam, who was finishing off the orange chicken, raised an eyebrow. 

“Seriously, though, I'm really glad to be back at a table with you four lads,” Niall said. “I wasn't sure this would ever happen again. I wish I had a pint to raise here, cause I do have something important I need to say. Liam already knows,” he added, nodding in Liam's direction. 

_Ah,_ thought Liam. He set down his fork as well. Zayn gave him a quizzical look. Liam ignored it and took a gulp of water. 

“Well go on, tell us,” said Harry. 

“First I want t' say a thank you,” said Niall. “To all of you.” He gave a bit of a nod at each of them. 

“What are you thanking us for...?” asked Zayn, sounding suspicious. 

“For everything. For last semester. For being the best group of friends I've ever had,” said Niall, smiling. 

“Are you dying? Do you have cancer?” Harry demanded. 

“Don't fucking joke about cancer, you asshole, I'm trying to stay something important!” said Niall, half laughing while trying to sound serious. “Don't interrupt.” He narrowed his eyes at Harry to make sure this directive would be followed. Harry held up his hands in surrender. After a moment Niall continued. 

“I really really enjoyed last semester dancing with all of you here, I wouldn't have missed it for the world,” said Niall. “But I'm not going t' be coming back. I've busted up my knee for good I think. I can't- I can't dance on it anymore.” He blew out a breath. “So- yeah.” 

“No!” said Harry. His face had crumpled. “Niall, no!” 

“Unfortunately, yeah,” said Niall, sadly. “I'm sorry.” 

“It isn't your fault...” said Zayn. 

“How long have you known?” Harry demanded, rounding on Liam. 

“Only since this evening,” said Liam. His stomach was doing something very uncomfortable. He knew- he knew he shouldn't have waited this long with his own news. 

“Are you sure?” said Harry, turning back to Niall. He sounded almost like he might cry. 

“Yeah,” said Niall gently. “I'm sure.” 

“We're going to miss you,” said Zayn. He sighed heavily. “Hasn't been the same without you.” 

That wasn't the only reason it hadn't been the same, thought Liam, but he held his peace. 

“That's- I'm really, really sorry, Niall,” said Louis. There was a twist of horrible regret on his face. Liam noted it as almost more than the news called for, though it was serious news. “I didn't realize your knee was that bad,” Louis added quietly. 

“I didn't know at first either,” said Niall. “But I think it might actually be for the best. Let's be honest- I was never really aiming to get into a ballet company or do Broadway or anything like that. The only reason I really wanted to get into professional dance was so I could be a back up dancer for a boy band. Well, now I'm thinking I should just be _in_ a band- cut out the middle man, y'know?” 

Harry laughed, a little quavery. Liam smiled. Trust Niall to find a silver lining in every cloud. 

“So you're quite serious then, about music?” Louis asked. 

“Pretty serious, yeah,” said Niall. 

“That's good,” said Louis. “I mean, it's good you've got something to move on to.” Liam looked at him sharply, surprised to hear his own thought of earlier repeated. There was bitterness in Louis's voice, but also honesty. 

“It is,” said Niall. He grinned suddenly, and his hopefulness and excitement were impossible to miss. “It's pretty fucking awesome, actually.” He ruminated for a minute, then turned, still smiling, to Liam. “Now I think Liam has something t' say as well.” 

Liam's throat immediately went dry. _Goddammit Niall,_ he thought. _I wasn't ready. Fuck._

Harry and Zayn had both turned to look at him worriedly. 

“What _now?_ ” Harry asked. 

“I- ah,” Liam tried to look back at Harry and Zayn without actually meeting either of their eyes. He settled for staring at Zayn's collarbone. His arm was itching fiercely again under the cast, as it always did when he started to sweat. 

“I'm not going back to Directions next fall either,” Liam blurted out. 

_“What?”_ said Zayn, loudly. “Why not?”

“Don't tell me you've joined a band too, _christ,_ ” said Harry. 

“No,” said Liam, rolling his eyes. 

“You could come back, your arm is completely healed,” said Zayn, exasperated. “I _know_ you could have had that cast off weeks ago, you were just too lazy to go back to the doctor!” 

Liam's right hand moved to cover his left, self-consciously. It was true, he could technically have had the cast off by now, and showering with one arm tied up in a plastic bag was a bitch. But it wasn't laziness that had made Liam drag his heels over getting it removed. This cast- this cast was his excuse to not be dancing. It was his doctor's note made visible. Without this as an excuse... he had no excuse. 

“It's not my arm,” said Liam. “It was never that. I could have kept taking classes with it. I just- I didn't want to. I realized I'm never going anywhere with dance.” 

“That's not true, you're good!” said Zayn. 

“I'm competent,” said Liam, bluntly. 

“You're better than competent,” said Harry. Niall nodded, though he was keeping himself out of this. He knew that Liam had made his choice. They both had. Louis too was silent, frowning a little. Liam shifted his shoulders, uncomfortable. 

“Maybe,” he allowed. “But I don't have what it takes to dance professionally. I don't have it in me.” 

“You don't have what?” Zayn sounded frustrated, almost angry. “What do you _mean?”_

“I don't have- that thing that you and Harry have,” said Liam, trying to explain, needing him to understand. But it was hard to put it into words. “I don't have- the charisma, or whatever it is. That thing that makes you shine on the stage. I don't have that, and it's not something you learn. It's something you are.” 

“That's a terrible excuse,” said Zayn harshly. “At least Niall has a _reason.”_

“It's not an excuse, it's the truth,” said Liam. “Harry knows what I mean.” Liam raised his chin at Harry, almost a challenge. “Don't you?”

Harry was silent for a long moment. Liam held his eyes steadily. He could see the truth there; Harry didn't want to answer, but he did agree. Zayn was staring from one of them to the other. Louis and Niall were watching Harry's face. 

“You know it's true,” said Liam fiercely to Harry. 

“Don't _agree_ with him!” said Zayn, but too late, for Harry had nodded just a little in answer to Liam. Zayn looked betrayed. 

“This is _fucking_ ridiculous,” said Zayn, shoving his plate away. “I can't believe either of you.” His hands resting on the table were fists. 

“Zayn,” said Liam, trying to meet his eyes. Zayn was staring resolutely at his hands. Liam wanted to reach out to Zayn, to reassure him somehow that it would be okay. Zayn did not look like he wanted to be reached. “Zayn, it's alright. I've made peace with it.” 

Zayn snorted in disgust at the platitude. 

“It's true,” Liam insisted. “I almost quit dance at the end of last year. I was starting to realize it even then. I'm glad I didn't, because it meant I got to met all of you.” He looked around the table, including all of them, even Louis- for Louis had been part of it as well. 

“Last semester--” Liam paused. “Last semester was the best time of my life. You all know- you were there.” Liam saw proud agreement on Niall's face, and a softening around Harry's eyes. Louis swallowed, but he was nodding a little. Only Zayn still refused to make eye contact with anyone. 

“I thought at first it was because of dance- because I was giving it another try. But that wasn't it. It wasn't dance that made me so happy- it was this.” Liam swept a gesture that included the five of them, the piles of dishes on the messy table, the nearly empty restaurant, the dark night, the whole city. “It was us.” 

Liam cleared his throat and coughed, embarrassed by the emotion that had come into his voice. Harry wiped out his teacup with the corner of a napkin, poured out the last cup of his jasmine tea and passed it to Liam. Liam sipped it gratefully. It was still a little warm. 

“What will you do instead?” Harry asked. 

“I'm going to keep taking classes at Benedictine,” said Liam. “I've actually... already switched to an academic major. Psychology.” 

“Oh,” said Zayn. He looked up at last. 

Liam raised his eyebrows at Zayn curiously. 

“I just- I just assumed you were going back to England,” Zayn admitted. 

“Well, I'm going home for the summer,” said Liam. “Though I might try and do some online classes. But I'll be back here in California in the fall. Just not at Directions.” 

“I see,” said Zayn. There was a pause, and Liam had the last swallow of his tea. Louis spoke up suddenly, and they all turned to look at him. 

“I'm not going back to dance either. Though I guess that was- kind of obvious,” his voice was laden with his old irony. 

“I didn't think you were,” said Harry. He met Louis's eyes. For a moment Liam thought there was something like understanding between them. Louis looked down quickly. 

“It's just us, then,” said Harry, turning to Zayn. “Only two left in Directions.”

“I'm still going to be living in San Rafael,” said Liam. “It won't really be different than this past semester.” 

“I guess not,” said Zayn, though he still sounded unhappy. They were all quiet for a moment, Niall twirling a straw between his fingers.

“Um,” said Louis, hesitantly. “I'll... still be in the Mission. I have seven months left on my student visa. I was going wait til the end of it to go home.” 

“Maybe...” said Harry. He paused. “Maybe we'll see you around, then. When you're not working.” 

“Yeah,” said Louis. His voice was just a little high. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Well, Ed and I will probably be touring Europe by then,” said Niall, breaking the tension. “But I suppose could send you a post card.” 

Harry laughed. “I'm pretty sure you have to actually make a CD before you start touring.” 

“Nah,” said Liam. “You just have to be famous on the internet.” 

“You should probably start working on that now,” said Zayn. “Maybe make a video with a cat in it?” 

“I'm going to remember these comments when I'm rich and famous,” said Niall, narrowing his eyes. “You'll all be sorry you ever took the piss.” 

Robin came back over to their table in time to see Harry and Niall sticking their tongues out at each other. Liam realized, looking around, that they were the last ones left in the restaurant. They had turned the TVs off as well. It must be almost midnight. 

“Hey guys, are you ready for the check?” Robin asked. “I would offer you a dessert menu but we're actually closing in about 10 minutes...” she added apologetically. 

“The check is fine, thank you,” said Liam. They had technically eaten nine dinners between the five of them, and the only good dessert item on the menu was the green tea ice cream, which wasn't very exciting. 

“Great, I'll be right back with it,” said Robin, carrying two of the dirty dishes away. Liam and Zayn began stacking up the rest to make it easier for her. 

Pretty soon they had the check and a small pile of fortune cookies. Liam unwrapped his absently as he began trying to figure out the bill. 

“All I have is a twenty,” said Harry. 

“All I have is euros,” said Niall. “But we could put it on my card.” 

“Yeah, let's do that and pay you back,” said Liam. “It should be about twenty from each of us. That will make it easy.” He ate half his cookie and read the fortune as he fished out his own wallet, handing some cash over to Niall. _Your next enterprise will not go as you expect._ Liam found himself hoping that the fortune didn't refer to his new major, before he remembered that he didn't believe it crap like cookie fortunes and zodiac signs. Liam handed the fortune over to Zayn. Zayn read it with a small “hmm,” and tucked it in his pocket. He was saving them in a jar back at the apartment for some hypothetical future art project. It hit Liam suddenly how tired he was. It had been a very long day. 

“Ah, what the fuck,” said Niall. “I'm the only non-gay man at the table!” He was looking at his fortune with incredulity. 

“What does it say?” asked Zayn. 

_“You and your husband will be very happy,”_ read Niall darkly. 

“Oh shit, Ni, you got mine,” said Harry, snatching Niall's fortune out of his hands. “This one was meant for you.” He dropped both halves of his uneaten cookie and the little slip of paper in front of Niall. Niall ate the cookie immediately before Harry could ask for it back. 

“What'd you give him?” Liam asked. 

_“Patience is a virtue,”_ Harry smirked. 

“Yeah, yeah, hilarious,” said Niall, reading his new fortune. “What'd you get Zayn?” 

_“You have something great inside you,”_ said Zayn. 

“In bed,” chorused Harry and Niall at the same time. Louis laughed. 

“It means _art,_ you tossers,” said Zayn in exasperation. Harry and Niall both passed their fortunes over to Zayn as well. 

“Where's yours?” Zayn asked of Louis. 

“I- I guess I lost it,” said Louis, looking down at the wrappers and crumpled napkins left on the table. “It wasn't interesting.” 

Zayn frowned at this, but chose not to question it. Niall headed off to the register to pay. Harry scooted off the bench and stretched.

“God, I can't believe we have another performance tomorrow night,” he said. “I need to sleep.” 

“That's right, what time to we need to be at the theater?” Zayn asked him. 

“I think they want us by three,” Harry yawned. 

They headed back out to the car. The air was still heavy and damp with fog, but it was a short drive, not more than five minutes. They were quiet most of the way, but this time the silence could almost have been mistaken for comfortable. Almost. Harry had taken the passenger seat again and turned on the radio but kept it low. Liam parked in the first good spot he found, about four blocks up, and cranked his wheels towards the curb. 

Harry got out and immediately started heading down the street, not waiting for the rest of them. Liam didn't think he was deliberately trying to separate himself from the group though- more likely he just wanted to get home. Liam helped Niall get his stuff out of the truck, collecting his own backpack then locking up the car. Zayn fell into step with Liam. He hooked one arm through Liam's, the way they used to, and it warmed Liam from the inside like whiskey. Behind them Niall started to tell Louis a story about some gig at pub. (“We knew they weren't going to pay us but we were supposed to be getting free drinks. Ed and I weren't sure though- like- how many free drinks? One each? Two a piece? Could we order anything? I started with a Guinness which I downed quite quickly because I was nervous. The empty glass just sat there though for a few songs and finally I asked this cute waitress if I could have another and she goes 'Oh sure luv, so sorry' and brings me another and also one for Ed. I finished that one after our first set. I'd hardly put the glass down when she's back and this time she's got one of those trays and it's got four pints on it and she sets one down in front of me, then another, and then another, and then the fourth. Ed's eyes are like, getting bigger and bigger. Meanwhile she's saying 'Don't want you boys to run out again and get thirsty- how long do you think you'll be playing?' Ed and I sort of look at each other and we're both like _'Til closing.'_ ” Louis chuckled appreciatively.) 

Harry trotted up the five steps to the apartment, digging his keys out of his pocket. He opened the front door, flicked on the lights and kicked his boots off. He proceeded straight into the tiny living room where he flopped on the couch in a dramatic and improbable sprawl. Liam toed off his sneakers and padded down the hall after him. He dropped his bag on the kitchen island, which was actually only six feet away from the living room (it was a very small apartment). He sat down on the coffee table. The coffee table was not very big, but it took up almost half the space between the couch, the wall mounted TV and the armchair crammed into the corner. Niall came into the kitchen with Louis trailing after him. 

“Liaaaammm,” said Harry.

“What?” grunted Liam. 

“Liammmm, come over hereeee,” said Harry. He held one arm out, pathetically limp, from the sofa. 

“Uggh,” said Liam, but he took one step over to the couch and sat down by Harry's head. Harry immediately turned onto his side, curling one arm around Liam's waist and half burying his face in Liam's jacket. 

“Don't bite me,” warned Liam, having been in this position before. But Harry wasn't in a silly mood- he looked beaten and exhausted. Harry shook his head a little and tucked himself in closer, closing his eyes. Hiding from the light, hiding from the day... hiding from the sight of Louis standing awkwardly in the kitchen. Niall had perched himself on one of the kitchen stools. He had pulled the other out for Louis, but Louis had shaken his head- he seemed almost afraid to touch anything. He was looking around, noting, Liam thought, all the things that had changed since he's been gone- and all the things that had stayed the same. 

Zayn had stepped into his room for a moment but now he drifted back out of the hall and into the living room/kitchen. Liam saw him pause to just stare at Louis there for a long moment. Liam knew why, just like he knew why Harry had needed to hold onto someone and squeeze his eyes shut tight. This was the first time Louis had been back here, back to the apartment where he had de facto lived for much of last semester. The apartment from which he had disappeared, ripping a whole in their collective friendship and a piece from Harry's heart. It was only now, seeing Louis standing in the mundane overhead lighting beside the dirty stove that he seemed, finally, real. 

“You've got some new Christmas lights,” said Louis, nodding to the new strands Harry had managed to get up via methods of duck tape, twist ties and tacks (expressly forbidden by the apartment regulation.) 

“And new posters! I like that one,” Niall pointed to the Avengers poster above the TV. 

“Got it at Pier 39,” said Zayn. 

“It... looks good,” said Louis, stiffly. 

“We're staying here tonight, right Liam?” Niall asked. 

“Yeah,” said Liam. “We can fold this couch out if Harry ever gets off it.” 

“I'm never moving again,” came Harry's muffled voice. “Too tiiiiired.” 

“Never?” asked Liam. He reached down and tugged out Harry's ponytail. 

“Nevverrr,” said Harry. 

“Well, I guess Niall and I will take your room then,” Liam teased. Harry grumbled a little and gripped Liam more firmly as if to say Liam wasn't ever moving either. 

“I should- uh,” said Louis. Liam looked up. 

“I should probably be... going,” Louis had reached up and was rubbing the back of his neck again. 

“Ah, already?” said Niall, ignoring the fact that it was coming on one in the morning. 

Harry sat up abruptly. His hair was a disaster. 

“How far is it back to your place?” Zayn asked. Pine Street wasn't very convenient to any of the nearer Bart stations or Muni stops. 

“Uh, it's- a ways, but that's alright,” said Louis. “I can just- walk...” He turned a little towards the door. Something strange seemed to cross his face at the thought of heading off alone into the dark. 

“Walk where?” Harry demanded. 

“It will probably be easier to catch a bus from Van Ness,” said Louis, a tad uncertainly. 

“That's pretty far to walk at night...” Zayn began. He cast a look at Liam and Liam understood at once. 

“I'll drive you,” Liam said, standing. “At least to Bart.” Zayn smiled at him. 

Louis looked intensely gratefully for this small offer. “Oh- yeah- that'd be- thanks...” 

“Don't worry about it,” said Liam. “Let me get my shoes back on.” 

_“No,”_ said Harry loudly. He grabbed Liam's arm to pull him back. Liam looked down. Harry's face showed obvious distress. 

“You don't want me to give him a lift?” Liam asked carefully. 

“No,” said Harry in a more normal tone. “Don't be stupid. He's staying here.” 

It took Liam a moment to realize what Harry was saying. When he did he looked up- Niall was grinning, but Liam had a feeling Niall didn't quite understand what this could mean. He looked to Zayn- Zayn just looked back, wordless and surprised. And Louis? Louis looked like man on trial who had just heard himself declared innocent. He was staring at Harry, and Harry was staring back- not happily, not easily, but with a kind of fierce determination. Harry was obviously not going to give Louis another chance to slip out of their lives- not if he could help it. 

“That- that would great,” said Louis, softly. “Thank you.” 

Harry nodded once, sharply. Then he stood up and headed into his room to pull out the sleeping bags. 

Maybe if Harry could find in his heart the ability to forgive Louis; and if Louis could find in his head the ability to accept forgiveness; and if both of them had the courage to try again... Maybe, thought Liam, if such minor miracles were possible then it wasn't yet too late for him. Perhaps next time he drove Zayn to the airport (only a week from now, the term was almost over) he would not miss their exit. Next time Zayn would not rush out of the car in a ball of panicky nerves. Next time Liam would look him in the eye and say his piece. And maybe, just maybe, Zayn might listen- and this time he would hear.

**Author's Note:**

> One of the most enjoyable parts of writing this story was setting it in my favorite city, San Francisco. Whenever possible I have used actual places. The San Francisco International Airport is, obviously, real- and you do have to be careful not to miss the exit and end up heading in the direction of San Jose. The ODC Theater is real, and does sometimes host the end of year performances for a dance program, Lines, which has an academic partnership with a small university in San Rafael. However, I have changed the relationship of the two schools in my story to better fit my own purposes. There is indeed a Whole Foods at 17th and Rhode Island, there is an urgent care hospital on Lombard and Mel's Drive-In is real. Don't go looking for the Pine Street apartment though- I have moved it there from another part of the city. 
> 
> This story is the first in a series that will have at least six parts. While writing it I started a tumblr to collect reference/research images of San Francisco, modern dancers and the boys. You can find that here if you are interested: [akikotree on tumblr](http://akikotree.tumblr.com/). I recently posted a floor plan of the Harry and Zayn's [apartment](http://akikotree.tumblr.com/post/105248037501/i-designed-a-floor-plan-for-harry-and-zayns) there. 
> 
> Thank you a thousand times to [takeintoaccount](http://archiveofourown.org/users/takeintoaccount/works), the other member of our writing group of two, and to [mybeanieandme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/works), who introduced me to this ridiculous fandom. I had no idea what you were getting us into.


End file.
